


Branded

by whimsicalmuse



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Het, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"You said you needed some space. I'll give you space."</i> (Implied Billy/Ali)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branded

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

  
_"You said you needed some space. I'll give you space."_

The cool tile is pressed hard against your neck, a very distracting phenomenon when you’re flushed from sex and dancing, but you don’t care. The hard base pounds deep in your belly, reverberating off the walls, the sound so thick the fucking mirrors are throbbing, but you don’t care.

_"I'm coming for you. I'm the shadow in the corner of the room."_

All you care about is the sharp breaths he’s taking, that slice against sweat as he leans on one arm, head tucked near your neck. All you care about is the way he smells in the space between his ear and his hair: sweat, musk, and cigarettes from the smoke of the club.

_"I'm the reason you feel sick in the morning. I'm the panic attack at the end of the day."_

You know someone could easily slip into this bathroom, and what a compromising position this would be, to have to explain if they ran and told, but you don’t care. Twice now someone has wandered a bit too close for comfort, and the spike of their drunken voices has startled you both, thought not enough for you to stop.

_"You needed some space, huh? I loved you"_

All you care about is the feel of him, hot, hard, and ready, when you clamp your finger tips and squeeze. All you feel is the petal soft skin of his ear, and you hiss words long kept bottled inside. All you feel is his sob, and harsh _"Fuck,"_ as he comes, quick and fierce onto your fist.

_"Now you're gone…and I see you everywhere."_

You know you shouldn’t leave him, with his conscience and girlfriend, but it’s getting late and you really should go. You smile at the concern that flashes hot in her eyes then soothe it with a joke and a shrug, and while you’re not sure if she buys it you really don’t care. All you do care about is going home, to your bed and a shower, to wash the smell of him off and down the drain. You both should be ashamed, you should really stop doing this, every time you have the means and he’s in town, but you really don’t care. All you know is he’s branded, just as you are-you both know this and have accepted your fate.


End file.
